


Your heart can love again

by sloganeer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, LA, M/M, Sex Toys, Sugar Daddy, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/pseuds/sloganeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis turned and looked right at Harry. It was Harry's job to blend in and never disturb the guests, and Louis had heard him laugh. </p><p>Before Harry could shake his head and wave an apology, Louis stuck out his tongue. Over his shoulder, right at Harry, then he grinned and turned back to the interview.</p><p>Harry felt his knees buckle. He propped himself up against the wall and waited for Nick to send it to a song.</p><p>-</p><p>Or, Harry is much younger, and Louis is much older, but he's still in a band, and they still fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your heart can love again

Harry came to London first as a kid from Holmes Chapel, sneaking into the city whenever he had the car and the time, dancing his ass off in the clubs where they let him in on charm, instead of a legal ID. He met Nick in one of those clubs, let Nick buy him a drink, and then Harry blew Nick in the toilet, but Harry got the best end of the deal. He got a job at the radio station. 

He met celebrities and rock stars and actors, and Harry's job was to be the one person in their busy day who didn't freak out. His job was to be an assistant, not a fan. But then he met One Direction. Not the biggest boy band anymore, but still big enough to take over the Radio 1 Breakfast Show when their newest album launched. Harry stood in the corner with his clipboard and his iPad, ready to fetch what was needed, whether tea or facts or a record from the archive.

"Bloody hell, Tommo. Almost all these songs are yours," Nick said, flipping through the cards Harry had prepared for him. Each one had a little bit about the songs and a few questions Harry thought would be interesting. "Isn't it about time for a solo record?"

Harry hadn't written that question down. He had followed the band since their X-Factor days, when Harry was in school and his mum traded homework for votes for his favourite contestants. When Harry brought home four A levels, his parents surprised him with tickets to see One Direction at their last O2 show before they started playing over-18 clubs.

He knew that none of them wanted to go solo. They had their chance, after the fourth album, when they cut ties with their management and their label and everyone leftover from the reality show days. The band played smaller venues now, but they looked happier.

"I can write the songs," Louis said, "but no one can sing my songs like these boys."

"If Louis went solo, it would be all plinky piano ballads." Niall reached across Liam to slap Louis on the back. "He needs me to bring the rock."

Harry hid his giggle behind his clipboard. But when Nick turned to Zayn and asked about the baby, Louis turned and looked right at Harry. It was Harry's job to blend in and never disturb the guests, and Louis had heard him laugh. 

Before Harry could shake his head and wave an apology, Louis stuck out his tongue. Over his shoulder, right at Harry, then he grinned and turned back to the interview.

Harry felt his knees buckle. He propped himself up against the wall and waited for Nick to send it to a song.

One Direction looked so different than when Harry was voting for them in school. They were cute then, of course, and Harry had just as much a crush on their hair as their voices. But they weren't a boy band anymore.

Here they were now, into their 30s, with a sixth album coming out, and Harry, just 21 last month and working as a radio station PA. 

"Let's give out some tickets, yeah?" Nick beckoned Harry over. "My man, Hazza, here found the coolest app."

Harry shuffled into the scrum of the band around the microphones. He wanted to avoid any further run-ins with Louis and reached between Niall and Liam to lay his iPad on the table.

Nick waved his hand. "Tell them how it works, Haz."

"Um. It's a one-man band, so there is a guitar, harmonica, drum, and cymbal." As Harry pointed to each instrument, Niall followed behind with his finger, trying it out. "We thought you guys could play one of your songs, and we'd ask listeners to call in and identify it."

"This is sick," Niall said. He tapped out a melody on the guitar that sounded to Harry like Rolling Stones. "We could make a whole album like this," he said, trading off with Liam, who was crashing the cymbals. 

"We get to pick the song?" Zayn asked. He hoisted himself up on the table so he could see over Niall's shoulder. Harry nodded and stepped back. He thought he felt Louis watching him, so he kept his eyes down.

"What do you say, lads? You have something for our listeners?" Nick had to make sure there was something intelligible on the radio. Harry just wanted to watch One Direction play.

"I know what we should play," Louis said. He pressed himself to Liam's back, chin hooked over his shoulder. Harry felt something twist tight in his belly. They were all so comfortable with each other. The rumours were just rumours, though, especially after the band went independent, and Louis come out as bisexual. 

Liam was married, Zayn and Perrie had kids now, and Niall had been with his girlfriend for longer than Harry could remember. Louis had boyfriends, but he had been single for a while now. Harry tried not to stare at his fingers wrapped around the back of Liam's neck.

With his other hand, Louis plucked the opening notes to the first, and still most famous, of their songs. Niall followed up with the beat, and Zayn played the harmonica, and Liam, the cymbals. Of course, it didn't sound exactly like "What Makes You Beautiful", but the fans would hear the song inside the mess, and that was who deserved to see the show tonight.

Nick started clapping, and nobody could resist humming along until they were almost giving the song away. Harry tucked himself back into his corner, with his clipboard against his chest. It was enough just to watch this band he had loved since he was a kid. Best perk since he started at Radio 1.

"Let's see if we have a winner," Nick said. He readjusted his headphones and settled the room. "Hello, you're on the Breakfast Show with One Direction. Can you name that song?"

She didn't just name that song, but sang the whole chorus, which had the band singing along with her. It all turned out even better than Harry had hoped for when he had pitched the idea to Nick.

"My thanks to the boys of One Direction for dragging their rock star selves out of bed and joining me on the Breakfast Show this morning. Go see them play at Elysium tonight, London. You won't be disappointed. I bet they might even play this song." Nick sent them off with the first single from their first album--the real version this time.

"You suck, Grimshaw," Louis said. He tossed his headphones so they skittered across the table, and it made them all laugh.

One Direction may own their own label these days, but the number of people who surround them and follow them from interview to interview didn't feel any less "biggest boy band in the world". Harry was supposed to show them out, but nobody seemed to want to leave.

Niall insisted Harry show him the music app so he could download it when he got home. Liam stopped to say thank you to everyone, and they barely made it down the hall. Zayn was pulled aside for a picture, and Louis was missing completely when Harry turned around. 

He and Nick stepped out into the hall together, arms around waists and heads together. It made Harry's breath catch because he knew Nick when Nick had that look on his face. That was how Harry got this job in the first place.

"Lou!" Niall made them jump when he shoved his fingers in his mouth and whistled. "C'mon, you slag. We gotta go." 

Harry watched as Louis and Nick pulled apart. It looked friendly, but not intimate. There was no goodbye kiss, and Nick had an excuse for kissing anyone. Harry and Nick were just friends these days. Maybe Louis and Nick were the same.

Louis stalked towards them like a shark, eyes front. He ignored Zayn and Liam, and when he reached where Harry was standing with Niall, Louis ignored him, too. 

"What's next?" he asked Niall. 

"TV, so I hope you're pretty enough because we don't have time to stop."

Harry was trapped against the wall, holding his breath because he didn't want to draw attention to himself. He could see that it had been a late night for them because Louis' eyes were puffy and dark. His T-shirt was pulled out at the neck and wrinkled, like maybe he had slept in it.

This close, Harry could smell something like tropical fruit, and he thought it had to be Louis. Niall just wasn't a pineapple and mango shampoo kind of guy. 

"What do you think?" Louis stepped close and leaned against the wall next to Harry. "Do you think I'm pretty enough?"

He blurted out, "Yes," almost embarrassingly fast, but Louis laughed. Louis laughed, and Harry thought, that is what I want to do when I grow up. I want to make Louis laugh more.

"He's cute, isn't he?" Louis directed the question to Niall, who rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"Leave the poor boy alone, Lou." Niall grabbed him around the elbow and dragged him away from Harry's side. 

"Bye, cute boy," Louis said, over his shoulder and waving at Harry. Harry waved back, and when the band, their crew, and everyone else had left the hall empty, he sucked in the breath he had been holding and slid to the floor.

Harry stayed there until the smell of pineapple and mango was gone and Nick's boots were visible between Harry's feet. 

"You used to wank off to that song, didn't you? That's proper embarrassing, Haz." Nick kicked his foot and made Harry look up. 

"Piss off," Harry said and kicked him back. Nick put out his hand to help Harry up off the floor. 

"It was a good show. You should be proud. You did good."

"I didn't do anything." He followed Nick back through the studio, picking up the Breakfast Show detritus as the next DJ settled in. Nick kept walking, back to the bullpen where Nick had an office and Harry shared a desk with three other production assistants. "You didn't use any of my questions."

Nick stopped in his doorway, pulled something out of his back pocket, and slapped his hand against Harry's chest.

"What is this?" Harry looked down. It wasn't just a ticket to the One Direction show. It was Nick's VIP pass. "What are you doing?"

"You should go. Have some fun."

"Don't you have to review the show?" Harry asked. Nick's favorite part wasn't going to free concerts and collecting free CDs, but bragging about it on his show the next morning.

"Be ready." Nick stuck a finger in Harry's face before disappearing into his office.

The laminated pass cut into Harry's hand. He was supposed to have lunch with Daisy after work, but now Harry had research to do. If he had to talk on air tomorrow, he was going to need his cards.

At lunchtime, with Harry still hogging the desk, index cards spanned out in front of him, Nick came out of his office, shrugging into his coat.

"So we were thinking, Haz. It would be great if you did a little post-show interview."

Harry's mouth fell open.

"No recording, just write something up for the website. Sound good?"

Harry managed to nod. He waved goodbye when Nick finally left, a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder. "Have fun," Nick whispered in his ear like it was an order.

Harry didn't get free tickets all the time. If there was anything leftover, it was distributed among the whole crew, so Harry never got his first choice. Something like this tied his stomach up in knots. This was an assignment. This was work. This was a tiny club show with the band he had loved since he was a kid, and Harry couldn't guess what Louis might do when he spotted Harry backstage.

He left work late, stopped by his flat to pack up half his closet, then grabbed a taxi to Lou and Tom's so she could do his hair, help him pick out an outfit, and Harry could get some chill out time with his goddaughter before the show.

"I'm completely freaking out," he said as soon as Tom answered the door. He shoved his wardrobe into Tom's waiting arms and pushed past into their house.

Lou had tea ready, and Lux climbed up into Harry's lap as soon as he collapsed on the sofa. 

"Hi, cupcake." 

Lou waited until Harry was calm, humming and rocking Lux until they were both nearly asleep, before she said anything.

"What's going on, babe?" Lou was the first friend Harry made in London who didn't know Nick and who didn't care to. She cut Harry's hair and recommended a yoga studio, then her husband did Harry's next tattoo, and soon they were having dinner once a week. Harry just liked them. They were young and cool, but older and settled and having a baby. They were everything Harry wanted to be when he grew up.

"I'm going to the One Direction show tonight. For work," he said. "I have to interview them backstage." Harry looked up at Lou with his best pleading eyes. "You have to make me look cool."

She laughed behind her hand and helped Harry up off the sofa. He carried Lux to her room, settling her into her princess canopy bed for a nap so Lou could get him ready for the night. 

Tom made pork chops and roast potatoes--nothing too spicy to settle Harry's nervous stomach. Lou had him sit on the closed toilet with a towel pinned around his neck, and she snipped at his hair for nearly an hour. His skin was on the verge of breaking out, so she slathered his face with something to cover it up. Harry said no to the lip gloss, but let Lou talk him into the eyeliner.

He wore his favorite black jeans because he wanted to be comfortable and because Lou said they made his legs look great. Harry only had one pair of nice boots, so he wore those. Lou picked his shirt, a vintage McQueen button down that she found for him in the first place. Tom lent Harry a worn leather jacket that he didn't feel nearly cool enough to wear.

"You look great, babe." Lou gave him a hug, and they sent him on his way, waving in the doorway like the proudest mum and dad. "Get home before midnight!" she called after him, and a group of girls in tight dresses across the street pointed and laughed.

He tucked himself into the waiting taxi as soon as possible, gave the driver the address for the venue, and took a deep breath. 

Harry didn't feel ready for tonight. He hadn't seen a One Direction show since he was 16. Their shows were so different now, now that they weren't playing arenas and doing silly dares from fans on Twitter. Niall played a lot more guitar, and sometimes Louis played piano, and even when they played the old songs, they didn't play them in the same way.

The fans were older, too, and Harry didn't feel out of place, walking up the line to the box office. He felt a little shamed to flash his pass and head inside before the line started moving. But this was his job. He was doing his job tonight. 

The drinks weren't free, so Harry just grabbed a beer and headed upstairs to where a few booths had been cordoned off for the press. He pulled out his phone for something to do while he waited for the show. He jotted down a few notes about the fans he was seeing down on the floor, already staking their claim to the spots closest to the stage.

He wondered how many had been fans when they were kids. He wondered how many only liked the grown up albums. Harry wondered if Louis would recognize him when he went backstage.

There were two openers: a brother/sister folk-type duo and a rock band with a female lead singer. Harry liked them both, but he wasn't paying attention. Maybe he would try to grab their albums on the way out, give Nick something new to play on the radio tomorrow. 

He was waiting for the main event. It was even better than Harry could have imagined. 

He didn't have to imagine. He had watched some YouTube videos as part of his research yesterday. He had to know what to expect so he wouldn't embarrass himself when Zayn took off his shirt or Liam started doing body rolls. There was none of that, but they did look good. 

Harry saw them tired and rumpled in the studio this morning, but on stage, they were electric, lit up from inside. They wore tight pants and vests, and Niall couldn't have stood any wider with a guitar between his legs if he tried. 

Harry stood up and pushed his way to the stage before the show was over. He couldn't sit and watch anymore. His body wanted to move. He felt twitchy under his skin, and when Louis' solo ended with a growl, Harry's whole body throbbed. 

He had to go. He couldn't do an interview now. He couldn't be here anymore. 

But he also couldn't let Nick down. Harry was here to do his job. So he grabbed another beer at the bar and knocked on the backstage door. 

A burly man looked him up and down, but let Harry inside anyway. A few journalists were already gathered around a table of food in the green room. Harry didn't recognize any of them, but he recognized what journalists looked like. Mostly, they didn't look like fans.

"It's kind of amazing, actually." Two men, who looked older than Harry's step-dad, were hogging the cheese tray. "The first time I covered their show, my daughter begged me to bring her along. Tonight, she laughed in my face when I offered her a ticket."

Harry found an empty corner and settled in to wait. The music was muffled through the walls, and he couldn't hear the singing. But he could hear the crowd holler after every song. That was the difference with One Direction at 30. The fans stopped screaming long enough to hear the music.

He pulled out his phone and opened his notes app where he had already started writing. Harry wasn't sure what exactly Nick wanted, but he was getting a personal essay about too many years of loving One Direction, and he was going to take it.

The air in the room changed as soon as the stage door opened. Everyone in the green room looked up, and a swirl of smoke and sound followed the band off stage. 

It all seemed so casual to Harry. Family and friends mixing with media and people from the club. He was happy just to watch. This could be his whole review right here. 

But as soon as Harry glanced away, looking for a place to set down his empty beer bottle, that was when Louis found him.

"If it isn't young Hazza," he said, sliding his arm around Harry's waist and dragging him closer. Louis's body was shining with sweat, and his button down was open to revealed the soaked undershirt sticking to his chest. "I told Nick you should come."

"I didn't--" Harry said, but Louis wasn't finished. 

"Tell me how much you liked the show." It wasn't a question.

"I liked it," Harry said.

"That's what you're going to tell Nick's radio listeners." Louis accepted a clear drink from ginger-looking bloke who barely stopped long enough for Louis to say, "Thanks, love." He took a sip and turned his attention back to Harry. "I want to hear the review you're saving just for me."

"I--" Harry didn't know what Louis wanted to hear. His fingers had worked a corner of Harry's shirt out of his jeans and were stroking the bare skin there. It felt to Harry like everyone was watching them, but the room was so crowded with conversation and activity, and even Louis' hand on his waist was covered by Tom's leather jacket. 

"You liked the show?" Louis asked.

Harry said, "Yes."

"You liked me in the show?" Louis asked. 

Harry sucked in a breath. "Yes."

"You want to come back to mine?" Louis asked. He tilted his head and pressed his lips under Harry's jaw. It was barely a kiss, but Harry felt it run like a current through his body.

He couldn't say yes. He wanted to, but Harry couldn't make the word with his mouth. 

"Squeeze my hand," Louis said, dragging his fingers across Harry's back and reaching down to grab his hand, locking them together for the night. Harry squeezed. Louis said, "Good boy," and it was another current through his body, but this one made Harry's dick hard.

He followed when Louis pushed away from the wall, his drink in one hand and Harry in the other. Harry tucked himself against Louis' side, even though Harry was taller and bigger in the shoulders. He felt safe in the chaos because Louis was holding his hand.

Louis had to talk to the reporters who had questions. He had to check with his assistant (the ginger-looking bloke, Harry discovered) that they could leave soon. He picked an orange cheese cube from the near-empty tray and held it up in front of Harry's mouth.

When Harry took it from his fingers, he let his tongue drag over Louis' skin. He dreamed about this when he was watching music videos at 16. He thought about this when Louis was standing too close in the station hallway this morning. He could have this right now.

Harry ate his cheese and rubbed his thumb over Louis' hand, and he smiled, so that Louis knew he was all in.

"Nick was so sure you wouldn't come," Louis said. 

"You told Nick to give me the ticket?"

"I told Nick I thought you were cute. He told me you were a little shy."

Harry shook his head. "Only around guys whose posters were up in my bedroom."

"Really?" Louis said, a smirk teasing at the edges of his mouth.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Harry said. "I wanked to Zayn, too."

"Oh, please let me be the one to tell him." Louis bounced on his feet, like he wasn't 31 years old.

Harry felt his face warm, and it was easiest just to hide against Louis' shoulder. Louis laughed and rubbed his back. 

"I'm going to have fun with you," he said.

Harry turned and pressed his face into the curve of Louis' throat. His skin was tacky with sweat, and he smelled amazing. He smelled like they had spent a night dancing together in a club, and now Louis was going to take him home. 

But this time, instead of being a stranger, he was a rock star, and Harry felt 16 again.

"Can we go?" Harry asked.

"Patience, love." 

Louis guided him across the room, shaking hands as they went, but not stopping until they found Niall and Liam on the sunken couch, a woman between them with a notebook and pen. 

"Boys?" Louis reached out and flipped the hat off Niall's head.

"Tommo!" Niall grunted his way to his feet. "So you found him," he said, holding out a fist for Harry. Harry tried to bump it with his own, but the move didn't look nearly as cool as when he saw others do it. "Harry, happy to have you along."

"Along for what?" Harry asked, turning his body into Louis' again. 

"The night?" He shrugged. He grinned, and he looked so beautiful when he did. 

Harry grinned back. He liked the thought that Louis had been talking about him with his bandmates. They had met only that morning, but Louis must have said something. Niall was open and easy, and when Liam stood up off the couch, he shook Harry's hand and introduced him to the reporter. 

"Thanks for the time, boys," she said, and then she was gone. 

Harry wondered what it must have been like in their early days. He couldn't imagine reporters then would leave Louis alone after spotting him holding hands with someone like Harry.

"It's not a story anymore," Liam said when he saw Harry watching her go. "I mean, not that Louis has had tons and tons of boyfriends--or girlfriends--I mean."

Louis cut him off with a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Mate, shut it."

"Sorry," he said. Liam turned to Harry and said it again. "Sorry."

"We can go?" Louis asked. His thumb on the back of Harry's hand was rubbing circles, and Harry wasn't sure it was nerves or excitement.

"Go," Liam said. "Get out of here."

Louis kissed them both on the cheek. The last one to get a goodbye was Zayn, who they found outside on his phone.

"Treat him right, Lou!"

Louis twisted around and gave Zayn a two-finger salute as they made their way down the alley. It was hard to walk, the two of them so close together and refusing to separate. Harry didn't want to let go of Louis' hand, and it seemed like Louis felt the same. 

So far, this night wasn't any different from any other night when Harry went out to a club with the plan to pick someone up. They grabbed a taxi on the main road, and Harry had to get in first because Louis was holding the door for him.

Louis gave the driver directions, and when he settled back into the seat, he stretched his arm out to let Harry know where he wanted Harry to sit. 

They hadn't kissed yet. That was different from Harry's usual one night stands. They should have made out on the dance floor by now. There might have been a blow job in the bathroom. Instead, Harry's hand was on Louis' thigh and Louis' fingers were in Harry's hair.

"16-year-old me can't believe this is happening," Harry said, resting his head on Louis' shoulder.

Louis hummed a happy sound. "Good thing I'm taking 21-year-old you home or else they'd come after me in the morning."

He hadn't showered after the concert, and Harry could smell the smoke still clinging to his skin. Louis had grabbed a jean jacket as they left. Harry rubbed his cheek against the soft sheepskin on the collar. He could fall asleep right here.

"We're here," Louis said. He was collecting his credit card receipt when Harry looked up, and the door was open. Louis pulled him out onto the street. It was quiet and cold, and Harry shoved his other hand into his jacket pocket.

Louis' building was away from downtown, in a residential neighbourhood that Harry didn't recognize. It looked expensive. He looked up, and Louis' building looked expensive.

"Nice," Harry said. His stomach felt tight, but Louis didn't let go of his hand. He hadn't let go all night.

"C'mon."

The doorman knew Louis' name, except that he called him "Mr. Tomlinson". Louis said, "Good night, Antony" as he led Harry to the elevator. He needed a key to press the button marked with a P, and that's when Harry figured out where they were going.

"The penthouse?" Harry's voice squeaked almost against his will.

"I like to be on top," Louis said. In the mirrored walls, Harry could see his grin.

Harry didn't want to wait any longer. He shoved Louis against the closed doors, and he kissed him. Louis' beard scratched his lips and cheeks, but Harry wanted to get closer. He wrapped his arms around Louis' neck and dragged him in.

The elevator chimed, and they had to stop so they could get out, but that was the best part about a penthouse. They were already in Louis' flat. 

It was dark. Despite the windows, not a lot of light from the city reached this high. The room was cold, not from the night or the wind, but the feel of the place. Louis snapped on a single track of lights above the sofa, and Harry looked around. He didn't see anything on the walls, not a blanket on the club chair, or a book on the coffee table.

"You come here often?" he asked. He made it into as much of a joke as he could handle, but Louis just shrugged.

"If we're not staying long," Louis said, "sometimes, I just stay in a hotel."

Harry thought that sounded like the saddest life of a rock star.

"C'mere," Harry said. He held out his hands and waited for Louis to take them. He walked backwards to the sofa, twirling, and shoving Louis down so Harry could settle onto his lap. "You should fuck me," he said. He ran his fingers through Louis' sweaty hair, pressing him into the cushion where Harry could kiss him long and slow. "Isn't that why you brought me home?"

Louis' hands were on Harry's ass now, squeezing and urging Harry on to rub harder against his chest. With one hand, Harry popped the button on his jeans. He stared Louis down and reached back with his other hand to guide Louis where he wanted to be touched. Harry felt Louis' finger slide under his pants and down between his cheeks. 

"Yes," Harry said. It was the answer to his own question and permission in a single, rasping word. Harry pressed his open mouth to the side of Louis' neck, resting a moment to catch his breath while Louis worked him open with just the sweat between them.

He could come like this. Harry had been hard most of the night, perking up when Louis was on stage and feeling the low-level throb the whole time Louis was holding his hand. Thrusting on Louis' lap pushed Harry's jeans off his hips, stopping tight around his thighs. 

"Wait," Louis said. He pulled away from Harry, stretching across the sofa to dig around in the end table. Harry took the opportunity to hop up and yank his jeans all the way off. He kept his pants on for now.

Louis came back with lube in hand and a smile on his lips. "Get down here," he said. He patted his lap.

With knees on either side of Louis' hips, Harry settled himself back into place. Louis drew one hand down Harry's chest, stopping to circle his nipples until they were hard, dipping into his belly button and making Harry shiver. His briefs could barely contain his erection. The next stop for Louis' fingers was the wet head of Harry's cock, peeking out from the elastic waistband.

The noise that escaped Harry's lips was a shock and felt like it was ripped from deep in his chest. Louis' fingers felt so good, on his cock and sliding back over his hole, slick with lube now and making it easier for Harry to let him inside. 

Before things got too embarrassing, Harry kissed him again. All the noises were muffled against Louis' lips, and Harry needed something to do, something to distract him before Louis made him come. 

"Good?" Louis asked. Harry pressed his forehead against Louis' so he could catch his breath and answer.

"Really good" was the best he could offer.

Louis laughed. He had two fingers inside Harry now. He had pulled Harry completely out of his pants, tucking the waistband under Harry's balls. Louis had Harry in both hands, and when Harry pushed back onto Louis' fingers, thrusting back into Louis' fist felt even better.

Harry had to kiss him. He needed something to do with his hands. Louis pushed a third finger inside, Harry's fists clenched in Louis' hair, and he came. He came spurting in Louis' hand, on his chest, and panting against Louis' lips. Harry's whole body was tense for a few long seconds, and he only felt Louis coming, too, like he was faraway. When he let go, Louis was there to catch him.

"Really good, baby," Louis said, rubbing a comforting hand over Harry's back. He felt sticky and empty, but warm in Louis' arms. "Bed?" Louis asked.

Harry nodded. His thighs burned when he pushed himself up off the sofa, and he needed Louis' help to get to the bedroom. 

There was a little more life in there, a few framed photos on the dresser and a Kindle on one of the bedside tables, a pair of glasses on top. There was nothing on the other bedside table, not even a lamp.

"Wait here," Louis said. He used his hands on Harry's shoulders to set him down on the edge of the bed. His fingers lingered on Harry's lips. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

He disappeared into the bathroom. Harry unbuttoned his cuffs to pull his shirt over his head. He lost his socks and his pants and shook the product out of his hair. He should text Lou and tell her he was okay, that the night was a success. Not the success he thought it would be, but better even.

Louis came back as Harry was crawling up the bed. Harry watched him over his shoulder, naked now, too, hair damp and carrying a cloth in his hand. 

"Roll over," he said. Harry nestled himself into the pillows. Louis' hands and the cloth were warm, but Harry couldn't help but arch into the touch. He wasn't all the way hard yet, but it wouldn't take much.

They rolled around on the bed, just kissing, Louis' hands in Harry's hair and Harry tracing his fingers over the sharp points of Louis' shoulder blades. He was lean and muscled, and the only sign of being 30 was in his belly, soft and rounded around his belly button. 

"Stop," Louis said, laughing into Harry's mouth when he dug his fingers in. Harry wanted to know if he was ticklish. "Harry." Louis had tears in his eyes now. His hands flailed out, and when he grabbed Harry's balls to make him stop, they both froze.

"Already?" Louis asked.

Harry shrugged. "21."

"Yes," Louis said, like he was just as ready. He twisted his hand up the length of Harry's cock. "Show me what you can do, gorgeous."

"I didn't think that's how this went."

"I need a lot longer to get back to this, love." Louis stroked him gently, pulling back the foreskin and rubbing the pads of his fingers over the slit at the end of Harry's cock. "Condoms on your side," Louis said. He let go long enough for Harry to reach back into the bedside table, finding lube and an unopened box of condoms.

Harry held the box up like a question.

"I told you," Louis said. "I'm never here."

"I like a challenge." He ripped the box open and shook the condoms out into Louis' waiting hands. 

"Slow down," Louis said. "I'm gonna need a nap after this. Been up since 6." His fingernails were bitten down, so Louis needed his teeth to open the package. He rolled the condom down onto Harry's cock, teasing just enough to keep Harry hard, then Louis rolled over onto his stomach.

His skin was tan all over. Not a single line that Harry could see. He traced his finger from the bump of Louis' neck to the deep curve of the small of his back. Louis breathed in and out under the touch of Harry's fingers. 

"Don't be afraid, baby." He turned his head on the pillow so he was watching Harry. "I want you to do it."

Harry didn't top often. It wasn't what men wanted from him. 

He rubbed the tip of his finger over Louis' hole until Louis opened up. Then, with more lube than was probably necessary, Harry pressed two inside. He stretched Louis fast and stroked himself with his other hand, getting himself slick. Harry pulled his fingers out when he thought Louis was ready.

"You're ready," he whispered. Harry turned them both onto their sides. He slipped into Louis so easily, but the feel of it still made them groan. They groaned together.

Harry fucked into him, building a rhythm like a dance. They didn't get to dance together at the club tonight, but they would. Harry would make sure. 

He sucked kisses onto Louis' shoulders, and when Louis reached back to grab hold of Harry by the hair, Harry bit down hard. He made a red mark with his teeth and kissed it after. He was close, but Harry wanted to get Louis there first. He wanted to be good for Louis.

"Almost," Louis said. "Almost, Harry." He clenched his fist, fingers twisted around Harry's curls, and they both cried out when Louis came, shooting into Harry's hand and all over his own stomach. "Harry. Harry."

He went faster then, shoving into Louis' tight heat until it was too much and Harry spilled over the edge. It was too good. Harry pressed his face into Louis' neck because it was too good, and he felt like he might cry. 

They stayed like that together until Harry was ready to pull out and Louis' fingers went still in Harry's curls. Harry reached over the edge of the bed for something to clean them up. He laughed when he realised it was his vintage McQueen.

"Sleep?" Louis asked. He rolled over to face Harry. He kissed his lips and the back of his hand, and when Harry turned over to find a pillow, Louis curled up against his back and pulled the blankets up to their shoulders.

They slept. Then Harry's phone started beeping at 4am.

"No, no, no, no, no." Louis rolled away to the edge of the bed, taking the covers with him.

"Sorry, sorry." Jumping out of bed, Harry ran naked back to the living room where he found his jeans on the floor and his phone in the pocket. He had to get to work. That was the problem with working the Breakfast Show.

Harry gathered up his clothes off the floor and padded back into Louis' room. He had already fallen back to sleep. Harry took a shower, using Louis' pineapple shampoo and mango body wash. He got dressed with what he had, but he would have to steal a shirt from Louis' closet.

"Not that one," Louis said, his voice raspy with sleep. He was sitting up in bed when Harry spun around. "Your shoulders are going to stretch it all to hell."

Laughing, Harry put the Ramones T-shirt back in the closet. "How about this one?" he asked, holding a plaid button-up to his chest.

Louis shook his head. "Your wrists are going to stick out the end."

"I'll roll the sleeves up."

"The black jumper," Louis said, pointing over Harry's shoulder, his head resting sleepy on his knees. "It never fit me right."

Harry pulled it off its hanger. He spotted the label as he slipped it on. "Burberry?" 

"Celebrity perks," Louis said. He used a finger to beckon Harry closer. Louis wasn't getting out of bed any time soon. "It's your perk now."

Harry leaned down for a kiss, following with his lips as Louis settled back into the pillows. "I'll bring it back," Harry said.

"I don't want it back," Louis told him. His fingers snuck into Harry's back pocket to steal his phone. Harry watched him tap through to contacts and enter his own number. "Text me when you're done at work. You can take me to lunch, and we'll call it even."

"That's not even close to even, Lou." The jumper felt so good against his bare skin, slinky and soft, like it had never been worn before, except it still smelled like Louis.

"We can fight about it later." He pulled Harry in for another kiss, sliding his phone back into Harry's pocket. "Go work."

"Okay." 

Harry found Tom's jacket last, on his way to the elevator. The doorman was missing from his station in the lobby, but when Harry stepped outside, he was there on the curb with a taxi waiting. 

"Mr. Tomlinson called down," the doorman explained.

Blushing, Harry thanked him and got into the car.

Nick figured it out right away. He didn't even try to hide, just laughed in Harry's face when he walked into the station with the black leather jacket and Louis' Burberry jumper.

"Someone didn't go home."

"Someone made me work late," Harry countered.

"I didn't tell you to spend the night." Nick slung his arm across Harry's back as they headed into the conference room for the first production meeting. "I want the whole story," he said, his mouth at Harry's ear. "But let's save it for air."

"Nope." 

"C'mon, Haz. The people love gossip."

"My relationship isn't gossip," Harry said. Nick's arm fell from his shoulders. "What?"

Nick sat on the conference room table, arms crossed over his chest. He was shaking his head and smiling like crazy.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Oh, little Hazza. Did you go and fall in love?"

Harry walked away. He took a seat on the other side of the table, saying good morning to Mal, and ignoring Nick for anything that wasn't work-related. He was ready to go on-air and talk about the concert, but Nick let him off the hook. Nick let Harry work in his office during the show, putting together the research for the next full month of guests.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," Nick said, knocking on the door jamb during one of the extended breaks. 

Harry looked up. He nodded because that was as close to an apology as he would ever get from Nick.

"I should have known better," Nick said. "I know the kind of boys he likes, and I know the kind of men you like."

"So he's done this before." If Nick was trying to make Harry feel better, it wasn't working.

"I don't know, Haz. I only know what he likes. I don't know what he keeps."

Harry hadn't texted Louis yet, though he had thought about it. He had pulled out his phone a dozen times during the day, looking at Louis' name in his contacts. Only it wasn't Louis' name. He had entered his number into Harry's phone with the name "the clingy old man from last night". It made Harry smile every time he read it.

"Get out of here," Nick said. "The show's almost over. Get a head start on your weekend."

He saved his work and shut down the computer. Harry gathered up his things from Nick's desk and kissed his cheek on the way out, already thumbing over Louis' name in his phone. "Thanks," Harry said. 

"You owe me a story, you slag!"

Harry ignored him, dropping everything on his desk and slipping back into the leather jacket. The phone was ringing as Harry stepped into the elevator.

"Are you bunking off work?" Louis said instead of hello. He sounded like he had slept the morning away.

"I'm done," Harry said. "Let's do lunch."

Louis hummed a yes. "How about you pick up a curry and come back to bed?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Really?"

"Sounds good, doesn't it?"

"Lou." Harry was stuck on the elevator. He couldn't make his feet move. 

"Another time," Louis said, his voice wistful and far away. "I have a meeting at noon, but I can pick you up at 2. Where will you be?"

If he had time to kill, Harry thought he should go see Tom and Lou. He had texted that morning to make sure she wasn't freaking out, but a visit would make her happy and maybe give Harry the weekend free.

"I'll text you the address," Harry said.

"All right, love. See you soon."

Louis sounded awake and happy when Harry ended the call. He sent cheeky texts while Harry was waiting for a taxi. 

_im keeping your shirt_ , he wrote while Harry considered if he should text Lou or if a call would wake up Lux. _maybe ill sleep in it tonight._

 _GO TO WORK_ , Harry sent back, with a few coloured heart emojis and a turtle, just because.

"Hey, honey." Lou answered the phone, and Harry could hear Lux babbling in the background. "You had a good night?" 

"Can I come over?"

"Of course! Luxie and I are making cookies."

Harry was already in a taxi and on his way. "Hi, Luxie!"

"Tell me," Lou said. "I can't stand the suspense."

He caught himself grinning in the reflection of the window. "Yeah, a good night."

"And the boy?" Lou asked.

The taxi turned and turned and turned, avoiding most of the lunchtime traffic and finding a quick back route to Lou's house. Harry was there before they got off the phone.

"He's picking me up later," Harry told her. 

She made a happy noise that Lux tried to copy, the two of them squealing in his ear as he paid the driver and skipped up the steps. The door was open, and Harry went straight inside.

"You're sleeping with rock stars, babe. You're so grown up." Lou left Lux in her high chair to gather Harry up in a hug. 

"I don't know how grown up that is."

Lou led him to a chair before stepping away to put on the kettle. "Don't argue with me. I'm a mum."

Lux had a handful of green grapes on the tray of her high chair. She offered one to Harry, saying, "Haz, Haz," until he took it and ate it.

"Thank you, cupcake," he said, standing to kiss her forehead and also slip out of Tom's borrowed jacket. "Thanks, Lou. I would have completely chickened out if not for you guys."

"What's his name?" she asked. She was busy getting the tea ready and checking the cookies in the oven. Because Lou was distracted, and Lux was distracting him, it was easier for Harry to just talk.

"Louis," he said. She turned and gave him a grin. "He was definitely flirting with me at work. I was right."

Harry's phone lit up with a string of animal emoji from Louis. It was enough to make him smile and a reminder to send Louis the address. 

"Is he flirting with you right now?" Lou asked. 

"Maybe," he said.

They had tea and cookies, and Lux got chocolate all over her face after she made Harry finish her grapes. Lou insisted on doing Harry's hair again.

"It may be lunch," she said, "but it's still a date." Lou was the only person who could tame Harry's curls. Usually, he wore them pushed back with a scarf, but she did her thing with the hair dryer and a big round brush.

"He's not going to think I'm trying too hard." Harry stood in front of the full-length mirror in their bathroom, testing the height of his quiff with a careful hand.

"Once he gets his fingers in there, babe, he's not going to care."

The doorbell rang. Lux called out, "Door! Door!"

"I can leave my clothes here a little longer?" Harry asked. He had brought half his wardrobe in a fit the night before, and Harry hadn't even been back to his own flat yet.

"No problem," Lou said. "I'll get the door." She scooped Lux up off the floor where she was playing with a basket of barrettes.

Harry should have kept the two of them apart a little longer. But he wasn't quite ready to see Louis again. He needed a minute to catch his breath. This was all going so fast. He knew Louis wanted him, but Harry didn't know for how long.

There was laughter when he came out of the bathroom. It was a good sign, but with those two together, good things could turn at a moment.

"All right," Harry said, sweeping through the room. He kissed Lux in Lou's arms and let Lou kiss him back. "We have to go."

"But I was going to have a cookie," Louis said. He slid his hand into Harry's, and Harry melted into his side. That breath he couldn't catch before calmed in his chest, and they didn't even have to kiss because Harry it was going to happen.

"Let me pack up a few to go." Lou disappeared into the kitchen. 

"Good meeting?" Harry asked. Louis nodded. This was his chance. They were alone. But Louis wasn't making a move. "Did you pick a restaurant?"

"I even made reservations," Louis said.

"Oh god." Harry moaned. "You're taking me somewhere posh, aren't you?"

"Don't worry," Louis said. He rubbed his hand over Harry's chest, teasing fingers at the edge of the collar, where Harry's tattoos were peeking out. "You and Burberry will fit right in."

"We were supposed to be making it even, Louis."

Lou came back with a plastic container with more cookies than they would eat. Lux wriggled in her mum's arms, demanding a hug from Harry when she realised he was leaving. Louis held the cookies while Harry held Lux. She wasn't often shy, but she was hiding her face in Harry's chest.

"Did you say hello to my friend, Louis?" Harry asked. 

Louis waved. Lux waved back, and then she hid her giggles in Harry's jumper. 

"Okay," Harry said. "We're off." He put Lux down on her feet. "Hey, tell Tom thanks for the jacket." He gave Lou a hug, and she nodded.

"What?" Louis said. "That wasn't yours? Shame." He stood in the open door, waiting for Harry with his hand stretched out. 

Harry took it in both of his and followed Louis out to the car. It was a big black Range Rover parked at the curb. Louis opened the passenger door, then he pressed Harry up against it and kissed him hard. 

"This going to work thing is crazy," Louis said. He rubbed the pads of his fingers over the stubble on Harry's chin, turning him this way and that as they kissed. He scraped his teeth over Harry's lip before he pulled away. "How mad do you think London would be if I didn't show up on stage tonight?"

"You're only one-fourth of One Direction," Harry said. He locked his fingers together behind Louis' back. "How mad could they get?"

"Cheeky." Louis pecked one last kiss on Harry's lips, then they had to go. He drove like a senior citizen, slow through the intersections, and compulsively checking over his shoulder. 

"I'm kind of hungry," Harry said. 

Louis turned his music up louder, and he stuck his tongue out at Harry. That was how all this started, in Nick's studio, Harry in the corner, trying not to be seen. But Louis had seen him.

"Hey, Lou?" Harry put his hand on Louis' thigh. "How about we just go for chips?"

"Oh, baby. You know that's not how this works, right?"

The restaurant didn't look like much when Louis pulled up to the curb, but there was valet parking. Louis even seemed to know the guy who took his keys. They did a complicated handshake while Harry waiting on the curb.

"Do all your fans know what a dork you are?" Harry asked. 

Louis didn't say anything. As soon as he took Harry's hand, lacing their fingers together, he didn't have to.

They knew him inside the restaurant, too. Harry wondered why Louis would ever have to make reservations. They were sat in a quiet booth near the back, but nowhere near the kitchen. Louis ordered a bottle of red right away.

"They let you drink before a show?" Harry asked.

"Who's they, Haz?" Louis made no sign of it above the table, but he had their feet tangled up below. "We own everything about this band. That's the beauty of being old."

The menu was old school steakhouse. Harry noticed that Louis hadn't looked at all, that he was playing with his napkin and waiting for Harry. 

"Are you going to make fun of me if I get the salmon?"

Louis grinned. "Probably."

Harry ordered the salmon. Louis said, "Steak," and the waiter asked, "The usual?", and Louis said, "Thanks, Ian."

They were quiet through the pouring of the wine. Louis didn't say anything, but he watched Harry drink. 

"This is your place," Harry said. 

Louis nodded. They both seemed to know what it meant.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

They ate, and Harry drank most of the wine, only because he was genuinely worried about how Louis would perform that night. They were playing another tiny club, but on the other side of the city. Louis wanted to put Harry on the list.

"You shouldn't," Harry said.

"But I want you to come."

"Should I?"

Louis reached his fork across the table and stole a bite of Harry's salmon. "Of course you should."

"It won't be weird?" Harry asked.

"Only if we make it."

Harry made Louis take him back to his flat before the show. Louis had to do soundcheck anyway, and if Harry was going home with him that night (they were both thinking it, but neither was saying it), he wanted to go home first. 

They ended up making out in the front seat of Louis' car anyway. He parked around the side of Harry's building, and when Harry leaned across to kiss Louis thank you and good luck, Louis pushed him back into his seat and climbed onto Harry's lap. Maybe he had more wine than Harry noticed.

"You have to go," Harry said, tearing his mouth away from Louis' so he could breathe. 

"We have two opening acts," Louis said. He shoved Harry's jumper up to his armpits. "I have time."

They kissed, and Louis kissed his chest, and Harry kissed his neck, and they both left marks all over each other, but Harry made Louis stop before they came. Louis' hair was wild, swooping around his face flushed red, and he panted as he sat back on Harry's lap. They both needed to catch their breath. 

He said, "You're too good, Harry Styles," and eased himself back into the driver seat. 

Harry adjusted his clothes and took a moment to mourn the loss of his good hair. He'd have to wear it up in a scarf for the show tonight. 

"I'll see you tonight," he said, kissed Louis' cheek, and got out of the car before Louis dragged him back into this madness.

It was a completely different show when you were on the list and the band's security detail knew your name. The bartender put his drinks on the band's tab, and Louis came out front to introduce Harry to the two women behind the merch table so he would have somewhere to hang out if he got bored.

"I know you already saw the show," Louis said, poking a teasing finger between Harry's ribs. 

But it was better tonight, now that he had seen the other side of Louis. There was an electricity in his performance that hadn't been there before. Harry knew what Louis looked like when he came, and it looked a lot like when he hit the high notes during his solos and the audience cheered loud just for him.

They hung out longer backstage, and though Louis never let go of Harry's hand, Harry mostly talked with Niall, about guitars and amps and the open source recording software the band was consulting on. He talked with Liam about writing songs and the daily hassle of running a label. Harry had done the research for Nick's interview, but it didn't come up, so he had a lot of questions about how they worked with so many bands and still found time to tour.

"Liam is a right mogul," Louis said, tuning back into the conversation and turning his body so he could rest his chin on Harry's shoulder. "I do the seduction part--get them through the door--but Liam knows how to close the deal."

That made Liam blush, but Harry guessed it was one of Louis' regular jabs. 

"It's true," Louis said. He went up on his tip-toes to speak right in Harry's ear. "I'm very good at spotting talent."

It was almost three by the time they headed back to Louis' penthouse. That was a bog-standard Friday night for Harry, but Louis seemed a little delirious on wine at lunch, beer at the club, not enough sleep, an all-out show, and then Harry, stripping off his clothes and laying back on the bed to let Louis trace his tattoos with his tongue. 

Harry ended up jerking him off and tucking Louis into bed before taking a shower and taking care of himself. But Harry didn't mind, and he couldn't figure out why.

He almost liked how married it felt.

The first of the presents arrived when the band was in Ireland. Harry was home, even though Louis told him to stay at the penthouse while he was gone.

"No way," Harry had said. 

"You could stock my fridge," Louis had offered, drawing his fingers higher up the inside of Harry's thigh. "Use my Aga." He knew Harry too well already.

Harry was in his own tiny kitchen, cooking stir fry on his own electric stove, when someone buzzed his flat. 

"Package for Harry Styles," the man said through the intercom. "I need a signature, sir."

He went down to the door, and the first thing Harry noticed was that the delivery man wasn't dressed like a regular delivery man. The second thing he noticed was the size of the box and the horse embossed on the lid.

"That arse," he muttered, signing the man's tablet and hefting the box under his arm. It was heavy. 

Back upstairs, Harry ignored it on his kitchen table for as long as he could. He ate his stir fry sitting on the counter. He texted Louis to call him "a complete arse". Louis didn't respond. 

Finally, Harry had to open it. It was worse than he expected. It was the leather biker jacket from the new Burberry collection. Harry texted Louis one more insult before Louis could call him back and Harry would insist he send it back and Louis would insist Harry put it on and send him photos. 

Harry knew that it would only encourage Louis, but he stripped down on his bed, slipped the jacket over his bare shoulders, and he had to take 23 photos before he got one that showed Louis everything except what he knew Louis wanted to see. Then he took another photo of the mess he made on his belly.

Louis arrived at Harry's door the day before the band was supposed to be home, and Harry was more than happy to bend over the kitchen table and let Louis fuck him in nothing but his leather biker jacket from the new Burberry collection.

From then on, there were more presents. A brand new Kindle that ended up living on Louis' second bedside table. A silk scarf from Yves Saint Laurent that Harry wore, with nothing else, while he rode Louis on his sofa. A pair of suede boots that Louis made him pick out after Harry finally got Louis to let him pay for lunch.

And Louis showed up at the station whenever he liked, following Harry inside to linger around the bullpen when he dropped him off in the morning or arriving too early to pick Harry up after work.

"Tell your sugar daddy you still need to work a full eight hours," Nick said, standing with his hands on his hips over Louis slouched in Harry's chair.

"Tell your boss," Louis said, trapping Harry between his legs and against the desk and ignoring Nick completely, "that you're never going to fuck him again."

Harry knew they were friends and it was all in fun, but he enacted a rule that Louis had to stay in his car after that confrontation.

They drove up to Manchester sometimes because Louis liked to see United play at home. If Liam and Niall joined them, they made a whole day of it, and Harry ended up driving home while the three of them sang drunkenly in the backseat.

Harry did stock Louis' fridge, and he did get to use the Aga, and if he was going to dust off the pasta machine they found in the back of Louis' cupboards and make meatballs from scratch, then Louis would call up Zayn and Perrie, tell them to hire a sitter, and make a date night of it.

But the first time that Harry realised he was Louis Tomlinson's boyfriend was the first time he caught a man standing outside his window, waiting, with a camera in hand and another slung around his neck.

He went out the back entrance and grabbed a taxi instead of taking the tube, but there were even more paparazzi waiting when he arrived at the station. The gates kept them out, but they caught him going in, shouting his name and the most terrible questions about Louis.

The worst part was that Louis was away, on tour in Japan. Harry couldn't bother him, so he sent a string of happy emoji instead when Louis texted him good morning.

The crowd outside was bigger when Harry finished work. He couldn't go home. He went to Louis' instead, where at least the doorman had dealt with this kind of thing before.

"Are you all right, Mr. Styles?" he asked, opening the door and ushering him inside. There were no cameras around, and Harry couldn't imagine how pale and scared he looked for Antony to ask with that tone in his voice.

"Thank you," Harry said, but he just wanted to get upstairs. Antony used his key for the elevator when Harry couldn't find his own in his bag.

He hadn't been to Louis' flat since Louis left a week ago. It felt cold, though the heating worked. There wasn't much to eat in the fridge. The night before he left, Harry cooked up a big pasta to use everything fresh.

"Why don't you just stay here and eat it before it goes bad?" Louis hadn't asked Harry to move in yet, but that seemed to be where they were headed. Harry kept trying to put it off.

"I have my own place," he had argued. 

"But I like when you're here," Louis had said. He had reached under Harry's arm and stole a piece of chicken. "Even when I'm not here."

Harry wasn't ready for that yet. He turned on all the lights as he walked through the flat. He put the needle down on the record Louis had left on the player, Marvin Gaye wailing through the speakers. He was filling the kettle when Harry's phone buzzed across the counter.

_you done? get on facetime_

His iPad was in his bag, left on the sofa, and by the time Harry got back to the kitchen, Louis was blowing up his phone.

_hazzaaaaaaaaa_  
_entertain me_  
_im stuck at the club_  
_zayn wont let anyone leave_  
_im hungry_  
_what are you cooking baby_

Harry's FaceTime call was accepted right away. Louis was on his back, holding his phone in both hands and grinning up at Harry.

"You're in my kitchen," Louis said. He sounded so happy.

"It's safer here," Harry said, then cringed because that made Louis sit up. Harry really wasn't feeling right if he was blurting things like that.

"What do you mean safer?" Louis frowned. "Haz, tell me what's going on?"

The kettle was whistling, giving Harry an excuse to look away. He made his tea, and Louis was quiet.

"Cameras," Harry admitted. "It's no big deal. It just freaked me out a little."

"But you're okay? They didn't touch you." The look on Louis' face was hard, but Harry knew it wasn't for him. It was his job to calm Louis down, even though they weren't in the same room.

"I'm fine, Lou. Fine." He held up his arms and twirled in front of the camera. "I'm drinking your tea and listening to your records."

"They found your building?" Louis asked. He wasn't done with this yet.

Harry nodded.

"Fuck." Louis was holding his phone propped up on the back of the couch, and Harry could see Niall behind him, playing with an acoustic guitar in his lap. "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's not your fault."

"I kind of is." His face was soft and tired, an unwelcome change from just a few minutes ago. Harry was supposed to be the thing that made him happy.

"It's not. They're the ones with the cameras."

"I'm the one in the band," Louis said, cutting Harry off.

Harry wasn't going to solve this over the phone. All he could do was smile and let Louis see him smiling. "I'm going to sleep in your bed tonight," he said, changing the subject.

"Hazza," Louis said, a whisper of a word. "There are a lot of people in this room right now."

"So call me later," Harry told him. "I'm going to take a shower. Maybe I'll get into bed early. See if I can't find something to keep me company while I wait for you."

"You're a right bastard."

"Have a good show. Tell the boys I said good luck." Harry toasted the camera with his tea cup, then ended the call. 

Harry had never been alone, even after he first landed in London as an 18-year-old kid. Making friends was easy for him. Finding someone to spend the night with was even easier. It turned out being with Louis was easy, too. Three months on, and this, even this empty penthouse, was the only place Harry wanted to be on a Friday night. 

So this was what a relationship was like.

Tokyo was nine hours ahead. Louis would call back in a few, once the show was over and he was back at his hotel. Harry made a fried egg sandwich for his lunch and flipped around the channels until he found a cricket game. Louis got all the premium sport channels.

He felt kind of lazy taking a shower before dinner time, putting clean sheets on Louis' bed, and slipping naked under the covers. It was decadent, but Harry was staying in his rock star boyfriend's penthouse, which seemed the perfect excuse to be decadent for an afternoon.

He was on his stomach, digging through the box Louis kept under his bed, when his phone chimed with Louis's ringtone. Harry had picked an early One Direction song because it made him smile every time he heard it.

Harry put the phone on speaker. "Hey! How was it?"

"You sound better," Louis said. "Did you finish without me?"

He rubbed himself against the mattress. Harry had been hard since his shower, but ignoring his cock and waiting for Louis. "Even if I did, you know I'd be ready to go again."

"That's what I like." Louis' voice was slow and syrupy, rough after singing for two hours, but warm and close on Harry's pillow.

Harry rolled over onto his back and tucked the phone next to his ear. "Tell me what to do, Louis."

"Touch your chest," he said. "Get those nipples hard for me."

"Yes." Harry circled a wet finger around one nipple. He pinched it hard. He arched his back and groaned, waiting for Louis to tell him where he was allowed to touch next.

"Did you pick a toy, Haz?" 

"No." His free hand at his hip clenched up in the sheets. Harry wanted more. "Just let me touch," he begged. "Can I touch?"

"Go ahead," Louis said. "Slowly." 

Harry teased his fingers across stomach, putting it off as long as he could stand. He went slow because Louis told him to, but as soon as Harry wrapped a hand around his cock, he found a noise deep in his chest, just for Louis.

"Baby, you sound so good. If you want to come," Louis said, "go ahead and come."

Harry stroked faster, squeezed himself harder. He could come so easily.

"But I still want you to pick a toy." Louis sounded tired, but his voice made Harry shiver with want. "I'm going to fuck you tonight, love."

"You pick," Harry said, gasping. "You," he said. "I want you."

"All right." Louis was laughing. "The blue one," he said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I like that one." He rolled over the edge of the bed, putting his hand on the blue vibrator in Louis' box of toys. He could tell it by the near-90 curve at the end that found Harry's spot inside like magic.

"I know what you like, don't I?"

Harry prepped himself with fingers and lube, not lingering too long because, even though Louis had given him permission to come, he wanted to give Louis what he wanted first. Harry pushed up to his knees. The phone was on the pillow next to his head. He could hear Louis breathing.

"Tell me what I like, Lou." Harry teased the vibrator at his hole. He wouldn't turn it on yet. 

"You like when I hold your hand," Louis said. He was right. "You like making marks on my skin. This one on my collarbone, Haz. It still hurts when I press it."

"Yes," Harry said, and he relaxed to push the length all the way inside. "Oh, Lou, you feel so good."

"Am I filling you up, love?"

"So full." Harry pawed at his phone, wanting Louis closer. He worked the vibrator in his ass with the other hand, nudging the curve up into the right spot, waiting for Louis to tell him he could turn it on.

"I think maybe you should come untouched," Louis said. Harry felt his cock jump where it was trapped between his belly and the pillow under his hips. "Turn it on, then grab the headboard."

"Fuck," Harry said, but he did it. The shock of the vibrations ran through his body, spiralling out from his belly and racing down his limbs. Harry felt it in his toes and his fingers, clenched around the slats of Louis' wooden bed.

"You know what else you like, baby?" Louis' voice through the phone wasn't the same. But it was enough. Over the buzzing in his ass and in his ears, Harry could hear Louis' hand slick and sticky on himself, and Harry knew Louis would be close.

"What, Lou? What?" Harry thrust his hips into the pillow, trying to find his release. "I need it. Tell me."

"You like my voice," Louis said. "You like when I sing for you. You like when I call you 'baby'. You like when I tell you you're allowed to come."

"Please, Lou. Please." 

"You're allowed to come, baby."

Harry was close with the vibrator on his prostate, and he had a soft pillow to rub against, but Harry needed Louis. His voice, a calm presence in Harry's ear, almost as if he was beside Harry in bed. 

It hadn't been enough all night, but when Harry came, it felt too much already. He yanked the vibrator out and curled up around his pillow, muffling his sobs where he hoped Louis couldn't hear. His whole body was shaking, and it felt like Harry would never stop.

"Talk to me, baby," Louis said. "Harry, you're scaring me. Let me hear your voice, love."

"I'm here," Harry choked out. "I'm okay." 

"You really don't sound it. What happened?"

"It was just a lot, Lou. I don't know. I'm okay, really."

"I know it's early, but you should sleep."

"I will," Harry said. "I promise."

They said goodbye, and Louis reminded Harry that he would be home soon. But Harry didn't sleep for a long time. And when he woke up early Saturday morning, he couldn't stay. He had to get out of Louis' house. 

He had to go home.

Harry thought that things would get better with Louis back in London, but now the press had his name. They knew who Harry was, and where he lived, and where he worked. Harry saw his face in magazines and newspapers. Graham Norton seemed to love him, but it didn't stop the jokes about Harry's age.

"They're making fun of me, love. Not you," Louis said. "I'm the chicken hawk." Harry didn't believe it. It wasn't Louis' picture they put up on the screen when they talked about the two of them. It was the picture of Harry in pink shorts, doing yoga on Louis' balcony.

"When I die, they're going to print this picture, and my mother is going to see it."

Louis laughed, tugging Harry onto his lap, even as Harry tried to fight him off. "I'm sorry, Haz, but I think your mum has already seen it."

Louis hadn't met Harry's mum yet. Every time he considered bringing it up, Harry considered the paparazzi following them to Holmes Chapel, and he couldn't do it. They had been together six months, but Harry was still waiting for something terrible to happen. 

It happened the day Louis left for LA. He had made it as far as the Heathrow business lounge when he called Harry to wake him up.

"I'm bored," Louis said after Harry grunted into the phone. The bed smelled like the two of them together. Harry stretched and found he was still wonderfully sore.

"I'm not jerking off on the phone while you're still at the airport. Call me again when you're at the hotel."

"Hazza." Louis was a champion whiner. Sometimes Harry liked it. It made him feel so grown up.

"I'm going to have brunch with Lou and Lux today," Harry said to change the subject.

"That'll be nice. Say hello for me." 

"I will." Harry rolled over on his back. He could go for a morning pull, but he wouldn't give Louis the satisfaction. 

In the background, Harry heard the boarding call. Then he heard Louis groan. 

"I'm off," Louis said. 

"Don't sound too happy, Lou. LA sun. You and Liam will probably go surfing."

"Yeah." He let out a heavy breath. "Did I tell you I'm thinking about buying a house out there?"

"Oh?" Harry switched his phone to the other hand. "That's smart."

"Maybe next time," Louis started, but he let himself trail off. Harry knew what he was going to say. He already knew Louis that well. "Maybe you'll come with me and we'll both look."

Harry wanted to say yes so badly. But neither one of them had said 'I love you' yet. Harry caught himself out a few times a week, but he didn't think Louis was ready. Six months together, but with how Louis had to travel with the band and for their label, they maybe had half that time actually together.

"We'll see," Harry said, because he had to say something.

"Yeah," Louis said. "We'll see. I can call you later?" he asked.

"You better," Harry told him, and it made Louis laugh, so they were okay for now.

He jerked off in the shower. He found a pair of jeans with just one hole in the knee and wore one of Louis' hoodies over a plain white tee. Harry had more than just a drawer at Louis' place. He kept his Burberry leather jacket in the closet here, too, because Harry suspected Louis had fantasies about repeating that first time, and Harry liked to tease.

Lou texted to say she was downstairs with the car, and Harry left his cup in the sink to wash later and headed down. His favorite doorman was on duty when Harry hit the lobby.

"You'll want to keep a weather eye out, Mr. Styles," Antony said. He had taken to warning Harry about how many cameras were lingering outside. "Weekends are the worst."

"Thank you," Harry said, shaking his hand and then putting up his hood before jogging outside. Lou was right there at the curb, so he didn't have to go far.

"Are you trying for incognito?" Lou asked. "Maybe you shouldn't wear a jumper with your boyfriend's record label logo printed on the back." She patted his shoulder in sympathy.

Harry made a move like he was trying to double-check, twisting in his seat, getting tangled in the belt, and making Lux laugh in her car seat in the back.

"Bugger," Harry said. "I just grabbed the first thing."

"Yeah," Lou said. "The first thing that smelled like him."

Harry sulked in his seat until they arrived at the restaurant. There were no cameras when they went inside, but when they came out, with Lux in her stroller and planning to take a walk through the park, the paparazzi had caught up with them. 

Harry put himself between the stroller and the paps, moving closer. They were hopping out of SUVs and shouting Harry's name. It had only ever been this bad when Louis took Harry to a movie premiere, except that was controlled. Louis had prepared him, and he was holding Harry's hand, and the cameras had to stay on one side of the barrier.

There was no barrier here.

"Hey!" Harry shouted at them. "Get back! There's a kid here." Harry could hear Lux crying already. He put his arm around Lou and made her walk faster. 

They didn't stop coming. Lux didn't stop crying. And even after Harry got them in the car and drove away, Lou didn't stop swearing.

"I don't know how you're dealing with that every fucking day," she said. She was turned around in her seat, shaking a toy to distract Lux. 

"It's not every day," Harry said. "It's not always that bad."

But it always could be. He never knew if the fans who approached Louis when they were out would be nice and ask for a picture or if they would be assholes and yell at him for ruining the band. There were a lot more people out there than Harry ever expected who accused Louis of ruining the band when he came out.

And now they had Harry to blame, too.

Harry drove to his flat first, after Lou assured him she was okay to drive home alone. 

"I'm so sorry," he said, hugging her outside the door.

"It's not your fault," she told him. But it felt like Harry's fault.

His flat was empty and cold, the way Louis' penthouse was before Harry started staying there. There was no life left in Harry's place. He had left so much of it back at Louis'.

Later, when Harry was laying in bed and watching TV, Louis called. Harry ignored it. Louis texted. He wanted Harry to pick up. Harry left it alone until it was clear Louis wouldn't. 

He texted back, _sorry. i'm just really tired tonight. is that ok?_

Louis' response was immediate. _please tell me what i can do to make it better !!!_

 _i'm going to sleep_ , Harry wrote. _see you soon._

He didn't sleep well. Harry stayed in bed for the rest of the weekend. He was afraid of what he would find out there. After calling Lou to check on her and Lux, and after she assured him they were fine, Harry crawled back under the covers and tried not to think about Louis. 

He was having a great time in LA. Even though Harry didn't respond all the time, Louis kept texting him updates. He told Harry about the bands they were seeing, the ones they were thinking about signing, the songs they were writing. He even sent Harry photos of the houses his real estate agent was showing.

On Monday, Nick knew something was wrong right away. On Tuesday, Harry agreed to lunch with Pixie and Daisy, but they asked so many questions. He invited Gemma over for dinner on Wednesday. He needed to talk to someone he trusted.

"It sounds like you want to break up with him," she said, glass of white wine in her hand. 

"I really really don't," Harry said. He was making them lamb with rice pilaf. 

"It doesn't sound like you're having fun anymore." Gemma was his sister, and she still knew him better than any other person. He wanted Louis to meet her, but they hadn't found the time yet. Six months together, and they hadn't found the time.

"Gems, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with him."

"Then you need to figure out if you can live his life. Because that's not changing."

Harry waited for Louis to get home before he ended it. 

"Hey, baby," Louis said through the intercom. "Buzz me up."

Harry went down instead. He met Louis in the lobby of his building. 

"What's going on?" Louis asked. He had his suitcase at his feet and his carry-on over his shoulder. Which meant he came straight from the airport. "Let's go up," he said, reaching out to take Harry's hand.

Harry took a step back. Louis dropped his hand.

"I can't believe you're doing this." 

"It's too much," Harry said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "That's what I can't do anymore. I'm sorry, Lou. I'm so sorry."

Louis turned away and walked out the door. That was how it ended. Harry never imagined it would be so easy.

He called in sick and lived on his sofa for a few days before Nick busted down his door and threw him in the shower. He took Harry out and poured alcohol down his throat.

"Now you go over there," Nick said. He had his arm around Harry's neck, and he was pointing across the bar. "You dance with that nice man, and then you let him take you home."

"I'm not going to do that," Harry said.

"It's a break-up, Hazza. The only thing to do with a break-up is get over it."

Harry went home alone. He went back to work. He made dinner for Gemma. He went home to visit his mum. He spent the night babysitting so Tom and Lou could go out on a date.

When they came home, Harry was almost asleep on the sofa, Lux on his chest.

"Was she being clingy or was it you?" Lou asked with a smile. She picked Lux up off his chest and put her to bed. 

"Tea?" Tom asked.

Harry always wanted tea. He followed Tom into the kitchen, falling into a chair at the table, his head on his crossed arms.

"It's not getting better, huh?"

"Is it supposed to get better?" Harry asked. It had been a month. It felt like longer. 

"If it was right," Tom said, tea bags in hand, "it should feel right."

"It doesn't feel right."

Harry slept in their guest room. He had been staying with Lou and Tom a lot over the last month and crashing on Nick's sofa when they went out for drinks after work. His flat didn't feel right either. 

There was a scuffle around his desk when Harry got to work on Monday. His fellow production assistants shut the hell up when Harry dropped his bag and said good morning.

"What's going on?" he asked. Kim turned her laptop to show him the screen. No one else would look Harry in the face.

It was one of those tabloid sites, with more photos than words, and all the photos were Louis. He looked red around the eyes, and his beard was scraggly and out of control. He was wearing a T-shirt ripped around the collar, and when Harry sat down to get a closer look, he saw the tattoo. 

The photos were taken through a window and a mirror, so it was hard to see anything. But Harry figured it out. Louis must be in LA right now. His favourite tattoo artist worked out there. Louis didn't have any tattoos done while they were together, but he loved talking about them. He loved spreading his naked body out for Harry to look and touch, while Louis told him stories about the history of the band and his friendship with the boys and how they were inked into his skin forever.

"What do you think it means?" someone said, like Harry would know the answer. 

"It's just an arrow," Harry said. He grabbed his clipboard and hid down in the archives for the rest of the morning.

But he couldn't stop thinking about it. It was an arrow without a bow, without a heart to pierce. It didn't make any sense, unless it was Louis' heart that had been pierced. He didn't show that part on the outside because it hurt too much inside. 

Harry didn't know when Louis was coming home. He didn't know if there was a home here for him to come to. Maybe Louis had gone ahead and bought that house in LA. He seemed to really like the one with the arch in the backyard and the lemon trees out front. 

Harry waited a few days. He went back to that website every morning, looking for new photos of Louis, better photos of his new tattoo. But Louis kept it covered up. He wore a black hoodie every time he was papped outside, even in the LA heat. It was one of their label hoodies, and Harry wondered how much it still smelled like him.

He checked every morning for a sign that Louis was coming back to London, but there was nothing. Some days, Louis was seen out, in his car, in a cafe, at a late dinner with the boys or some other band. Some days, Harry woke up without a sign of Louis at all, and those days were the worst.

On one of those days, Harry found himself getting on the tube after work and heading in the wrong direction. He found himself getting off at a familiar station and walking up to a familiar building. Antony smiled a hello, and when Harry explained, he let Harry up to Louis' penthouse to wait. 

It was empty and cold, and Harry had been here before. But this time, there were pieces of Harry left behind. Dirty laundry in the bedroom, leftovers in the fridge, a toothbrush in the bathroom. No wonder Louis had to get out of this place.

Harry didn't check the time before he called. He didn't know what time it was in LA. He kind of wanted to get Louis' voicemail, and that was what happened. 

The message said, "I'm not gonna pick up, so you should leave a message," and Harry's breath caught when he heard Louis' voice.

"Hi," he said. It took him a long time to get to the next sentence. "I just wanted to say hi, and if you come home, Lou, I can say I'm sorry because I'm so sorry, Lou. Please, you have to let me say I'm sorry."

Harry rubbed his eyes because he wasn't going to cry. 

"I'm going to be right here when you come home, and I'm going to wait, okay? I'm going to wait for you, and then we're going to make this right." He could say more, but Harry wanted to save it for when he had Louis back in his arms. "Okay. I miss you. Come home," and Harry ended the call. 

He slept on Louis' couch because sleeping in his bed didn't seem right, not yet. But he cleaned up after having a shower in the morning. Harry did the laundry and cleaned out the food going bad in the fridge. He gave himself permission to take one of the cars out to do some grocery shopping to make sure there was food for when Louis came home. 

"I'm glad you're back, Mr. Styles." Antony offered to help him carry the bags up, but Harry wanted to do it by himself.

"I hope he feels the same way."

Harry slept three nights on Louis' sofa without a call or a text or a paparazzi photo all over the internet, until he woke up to his phone beeping at him from the coffee table.

The text said, _you better buzz me up this time._

Harry fell to the floor trying to type, _where are you???_

_im outside your building where do you think_

Harry never wanted to stop smiling. _I'm at your place_ , he wrote back. He added a few emoji: a happy face, and at the last tentative moment, a heart.

_be there in 15_

He waited outside the elevator. He had to talk himself out of going down to the lobby because, as much as Harry loved Antony, he didn't want this reunion to happen in front of anyone else. He wanted Louis all to himself, at least for today.

The elevator chimed, and the doors opened, and Louis was there, wearing the same ripped T-shirt and the same logo hoodie Harry had seen in the tattoo photos. The number of bags at his feet probably meant he had been in LA even longer than Harry knew. He looked terrible, eyes redder and his beard longer. His hair was pushed back with a headband Harry had never seen him wear before. 

But there was a smile, too, and Harry could see it shining through where Louis was gnawing on his bottom lip.

"Tell me," he said. He stepped out of the elevator and towards Harry. "Tell me what you wanted to tell me."

In his message, Harry had said he wanted to say sorry, but when he opened his mouth, he said, "I love you," instead. 

Louis' face crumpled, and Harry had to reach out and grab him under his arms to hold him up. They held tight to each other, and Harry muffled his apologies against the skin of Louis' neck where he was warm and sweaty and smelled so good.

Louis whispered, "It's okay. It's okay," and he ran his hand through Harry's hair, over and over. 

"I'm sorry," Harry said again. He didn't think he could ever say it enough.

"I know you are," Louis said. He let Harry go just so he could slip their hands together and lead him back to the sofa. Louis sat back against the armrest and let Harry curl up on his chest. "You broke my heart a little, baby, but we're going to be okay."

"We are," Harry said. "Promise."

It was early, and Louis had just got off a plane, so they slept a little. When Harry woke up, Louis still had one hand in Harry's hair, fingers tangled up in the curls at the back of his neck, and their other hands were tangled up together on Louis' stomach. Their legs were tangled, too, and it was a production trying to get up off the sofa, but Harry had plans.

He set the kettle to boil for Louis' tea, and he chopped up onions and potatoes and mushrooms and found beans in the cupboard, and he had eggs in the fridge because he wanted to make Louis a proper English breakfast to wake him up and welcome him home. 

"G'morning," Louis said, coming up behind Harry at the stove and kissing across his shoulders. "I'm so happy I get to say good morning to you again."

"Me, too," Harry said. He twisted his head around for a kiss, which Louis gave up gladly.

"Should we talk?" Louis pulled the milk out of the fridge and poured it into the little jug he kept on the counter for their tea. He sat up at the island where he could still reach out and touch Harry while Harry cooked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I mean, you probably have questions." He put the bread in the toaster and started on the eggs. Cooking was a good distraction right now. 

"I just want to make sure that you've thought about this. Because my life isn't going to change."

"I know." Harry stepped away from the stove to lean in for a kiss. "I know things are still going to suck, but I know I want you more."

"I want you more," Louis said, like they were fighting for first place. "What changed?" he asked, when Harry turned back to their breakfast.

"It was a lot of things, but mostly your tattoo?"

Louis was wearing just his T-shirt, and Harry could see the arrow, a little scabby around the edges, but stark, even against Louis' tan.

"You figured it out?" Louis asked.

"It's probably a little conceited, but I thought maybe it was about me."

Louis nodded and got up from his stool so he could hug Harry again. Neither one of them wanted to get too far away.

"It's a lot conceited," Louis said. "But you're not wrong. My heart was hurting a lot, and I wanted to hold onto that." He wouldn't let Harry turn around, so Harry had to satisfy himself kissing the palm of Louis' hand around his chest. "But I also wanted to remember that the hurt meant I had been in love."

"Still in love," Harry reminded him.

"Yes."

They ate breakfast, their ankles hooked together. Harry did the laundry Louis had brought home with him while Louis had a shower. They laid on the sofa together, Harry between Louis and the cushions, with a football game on TV. 

But the world came rushing back, like they both knew it would. Harry had to go to work, and Louis had meetings that he wasn't allowed to miss. Life went on, but things were better now.

"Is tonight dinner with your sister?" Louis asked, calling from the bedroom to the bathroom. Harry had his toothbrush in his mouth and couldn't answer. "Hey," Louis said, leaning in through the doorway.

Harry gave him a thumbs up. They were making the time for these kinds of things because these kinds of things were important. When Harry spent the night, Louis would get up with the 4am alarm, make Harry tea, send him off to work with a kiss, then go back to bed. It was a nice routine, and Harry was spending a lot of nights.

"Do you need anything? Make me a list, and I can do the shopping."

Harry shook his head. He bent over to spit and rinse, then reached out to pull Louis into the bathroom so he could kiss him. "It's fine. Don't worry."

"Wine? I can buy wine."

"You already did." 

Louis wasn't usually so bad with the shopping (he hated doing the laundry), but this week he was getting ready to head back to LA. One of their bands was going into the studio, and Louis and Liam were producing the album. 

"You have a whole separate fridge full of wine, Lou." Harry kissed his forehead and sent him back to bed. "I'll call you when I'm headed home."

Dinner with Gemma was perfect, even if his sister and his boyfriend teamed up to tease Harry all night. He loved seeing them get along, and it made him feel better about the trip back to Holmes Chapel he was planning for the holidays. 

They drank three bottles from Louis' collection between them, each one with a story about where it came from and who, a story that Louis only remembered when he pulled out the bottle and looked at the label. Most of Louis' stories started with, "I had almost forgotten all about this," but he never forgot anything. There was just so much more to his life than Harry's or anyone else's who didn't grow up in One Direction like Louis had.

Gemma begged off the offer of Louis' guest room for the night, so Harry called down to Antony and asked him to put her in a taxi. She hugged Louis in the kitchen, but dragged Harry to the elevator alone to say good night.

"I'm sorry I told you to break up with him. You guys are so happy together."

"Oh my God, Gems." Harry hugged her tight. "You didn't tell me to break up with him. Do not apologize for my mess."

"Okay," she said. "Then have a good night," and she did something weird with her eyebrows as she left, a signal Harry couldn't decipher until he wandered back into the kitchen and saw Louis pouring the last of the wine into one glass.

"We haven't had sex," Harry said.

Louis took a long slow sip of his wine. "Actually, love, we've had quite a lot of sex."

"Since you got back," Harry said, rolling his eyes. 

Louis nodded. "No, I knew what you meant."

"Are you waiting for me?"

"I'm feeling a little stage fright myself," Louis said. 

Harry grabbed the glass from his hand and set it on the counter. He pulled Louis along and into the bedroom. He unbuttoned Louis' shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, going for his trousers next and pushing Louis back onto the bed as soon as he had him naked. 

Harry undressed himself next, feeling his cheeks heat under Louis' stare. "You, of all people, should never be scared to take a boy to bed."

"A beautiful boy," Louis said, spreading his legs and pulling Harry between them. 

"If you say so." Harry laughed.

"My beautiful boy." Louis rolled them over, finding lube in the bedside table, and sliding his fingers over Harry's hole until Harry relaxed enough to let him inside.

It had been a while, but as soon as Louis was inside him, Harry breathed out, and everything was good again. Louis took care of him, in bed, but in so many other ways, too.

Harry hitched his knees higher around Louis' hips. He held Louis close to him, crying out with every thrust. He felt so full, in that way that could be scary when you didn't know how the other person fit into your life. But with Louis, sex was their bodies, and their lives, clicking together. 

Sex was extra, pleasure on top of happiness and wrapped up in Louis' arms inked with the symbol of their love.

"Why don't you come to LA?" Louis said, wiping down Harry's belly and kissing him all over. 

"I have to work." Harry wriggled under the sheets, pulling Louis up by his hair for a kiss on the mouth.

"Tell Nick you need a holiday," Louis said. "He loves you. He'll say yes."

He did. But only after he teased Harry a little. "Are you going to go somewhere sunny and have lots of sex?" Nick asked. "Because you need it."

"You need to settle down," Harry said, poking his thigh where Nick was perched on his desk.

"Never," Nick promised. 

"You don't know what you're missing." 

Nick put a foot on Harry's chair and pushed him away, hooked it underneath and dragged Harry back. "Then make sure you come back and tell me."

LA was bright and loud, but Louis never let go of Harry's hand, even when the paparazzi were crowding them off the plane and chasing after their car. 

"You're okay?" Louis asked, a whisper in Harry's hair, head rested on Louis' shoulder. 

"I am now," Harry said.

Everyone seemed to know his name here. They shouted it across the street and when Harry was doing yoga by the pool. It didn't make sense because, as Louis said all the time, the band hadn't been this big in years.

"I should text the boys," Louis said. "We could do a couple of shows, cash in on the scandal."

"Am I a scandal?" Harry asked. They were back in the car, after a day when Louis was up and off to the studio while Harry hung out at the hotel. 

"You're too pretty to be a scandal, baby." 

They went out for sushi, and Louis wanted to go shopping, and on a beautiful day off, they drove down the coast, and Louis and Liam went surfing while Harry watched from the beach. It was exactly the holiday Harry needed; Nick was right. 

The band wanted to throw a party when the album was finished, but Harry picked Louis up from the studio with another plan in mind. They were out in a warehouse district somewhere, so Harry felt good about kissing Louis against the car and teasing him a little before they headed out.

"This is new," Louis said, holding Harry's hand and the door for him to get back into the car. "Why are you picking me up today?"

"I just missed you," Harry told him, holding onto his surprise.

But Louis figured it out easily when he saw where Harry had sent the driver. "How do you know about Shamrock?"

"I asked Liam where your favourite place was." Harry unbuckled their seat belts and settled himself onto Louis' lap. The windows were tinted, and he was going to take advantage. "I want to get something," he said, and Harry bit down on the fleshy part of Louis' ear, just hard enough to make him moan.

Harry had looked up a few designs, lots of time to browse tattoo artist websites while he lounged by the pool. He emailed a couple after he called and made the appointment, and Harry couldn't wait to see what Louis' artist had come up with. He was the same guy who did Louis' arrow, and Harry wanted them to match.

"I can't believe you're doing this, Harold," and the words flashed him back to that day he made Louis walk away from him, but this time, they meant something different. They were changing those words for good, and Harry was changing Louis' tattoo for something happy forever.

Louis dropped Harry's hand when they showed him the design: an anatomical heart, with two matching wounds where the arrow should be. He covered his mouth with his hand and nodded his approval. Harry hugged him and kissed him and led him into the back room where the tattoo would be done. 

He wanted it on the inside of his bicep, the same place where Louis liked to hold him down in bed and sometimes made bruises that didn't go away for days. There was one there now, actually, so they shifted the stencil just a little to the left.

Harry stretched out on his back, and Louis held his hand like he always did. 

"Thank you for taking me back," Harry said, feeling hazy and high from the pain and the pleasure of the needle. Louis stroked Harry's open palm with his thumb, and when Louis bent down and kissed him there, Harry's whole body lit up.

"Of course I took you back," Louis said. "I've been around long enough to know what I want, love. I was ready to wait a long time for you to catch up."

The cameras that followed them were just part of Louis' life, and all that craziness was worth it because Harry had Louis. He got to take care of Louis, and cook for Louis, and make Louis' flat feel like a home, instead of that cold empty place he took Harry the very first time.

Their life together worked because Louis had Harry, too. He had Harry to come home to. Louis never had someone to come home to, not since he left his mother and sisters behind to become famous. It was Harry's job to deal with Louis' crazy life because it was his job to be the one non-crazy thing in it. 

With all of that, and Louis' hand in his, cameras were nothing. Harry could deal with cameras.

He was on the table for almost three hours, Louis distracting him from the needle with stories about recording with the band and the boy who managed the studio who flirted with Liam just to see him flustered. Louis took pictures of the progress and sent them to Gemma and Lou. He took a selfie against the wall, next to a heart and arrow drawing, something like what the two of theirs would look like if you put them together.

He waited until Harry was cleaned and wrapped, and they were back in the car and on the way to the party before he tweeted the photo, in the hopes of sating the fans for a night at least.

"Never ever join Twitter," Louis said, as they watched the mentions roll in. Fans were already speculating, and correctly, where Louis had taken the photo. 

"You're just jealous of my emoji game."

"You got me," Louis said. bumping their shoulders together. "I want your turtles all to myself."

He spent the whole night at the club dragging Harry from group to group, showing him off and waiting for people to compliment their tattoos. He was at his on-stage Louis Tomlinson best, but performing for friends, for the people he trusted. 

The band wanted to say hi and buy Louis a drink. They were a bunch of kids who seemed younger than Harry, but they shook his hand when Louis introduced them, and they laughed and called Harry "the husband".

"What kind of stories are you telling?" Harry asked. Louis grinned over the rim of his glass and didn't say a thing.

Louis was happy, and Harry was happy to see him so happy, and neither of them wanted to go home yet.

They went back to the hotel, using the underground parking to avoid the cameras on the sidewalk, so they could make out in the elevator on the way up to their room. Louis' hand went straight to Harry's tattoo, careful, but possessive nonetheless.

"I want to see it," he said. He pushed his hands underneath Harry's blazer to get at the plastic covering.

"Just wait," Harry said. It took three tries to get the keycard to work, and Louis had attached his mouth to Harry's neck by the time they stumbled through the door.

"I don't like to wait."

He pushed Harry back onto the bed, kicked off his shoes, threw off his jumper, and fell down to his knees.

"Lou." Harry moaned the name out loud to the ceiling. He lifted his hips to help Louis pull down his trousers and his pants. "Yes, yes, yes."

Louis sucked him down deep. He knew how to use his lips, his tongue, his teeth. When Louis took Harry all the way down his throat, they both lost their breath. 

He wasn't ready when Louis pulled off. His cock slapped wetly against his stomach as Harry flailed about for Louis' hand.

"Right here, baby," Louis said, hefting Harry up the bed so only his feet were hanging off the end of the mattress. He got Harry naked, and Harry rolled his shoulder back and laid out his arm for Louis to see the heart put there just for him. "I love it." He kissed Harry's skin through the plastic. "I love you."

Wrapping his hand around Harry's hard cock waiting, Louis settled himself between Harry's knees and bent down to resume his blow job. He took his time with it, rubbing the wet and sensitive head over his rough lips. Louis sucked and swirled his tongue, holding Harry down with a hand around his bicep, making a new bruise on the other arm.

Harry didn't hold back. Louis liked when he came fast. Louis liked to make him come again, one more time, their hands stroking each other, their mouths wet and loud, kissing, coming, just being together. 

And then they slept, and Harry woke up with the sun in his face.

"Good morning, love." Louis had two cups of tea in hand, which he passed off to Harry so he could sit cross-legged on the bed without spilling on the sheets.

They drank in the quiet morning, just smiling at each other, Louis gripping Harry's arm and stroking his thumb over the dark lines of the new tattoo, uncovered and feeling the air for the first time. They were just waiting, because Harry knew Louis was working his way up to saying something.

"So." Louis smiled up at him. He leaned down to kiss Harry's new heart. "Can I show you a house?"


End file.
